Broken
by steelegrey
Summary: He feels the overwhelming need to take care of her, to protect her, and to save her. But what if she doesn't want to be saved? Ana is OOC, AU, HEA. Rated M for lemons and some scenes of violence.
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome, readers :-)_

CPOV

One of the downsides that comes along with being a billion-dollar CEO – having to have meetings with _million-dollar_ CEO's that think they are big shots or try to impress me. It's nauseating and embarrassing to witness. What makes it even worse is that these meetings either take place in the busiest restaurant in the city and I can barely hear their proposal, or places like this – a fucking strip club. When someone suggests a meeting at a place like this, the decision is pretty much immediate that I will no way in hell ever do business with them. But I show up to the meeting anyway, just to experience the pleasure of watching these douche bags get their hopes up and seeing the look of absolute devastation on their face as I tell them to fuck off. It's one of my many guilty pleasures.

I will give these guys credit though; at least they picked the classiest strip club in Seattle. So classy, in fact, that these girls don't even get naked. It's basically just a giant dick tease room. It doesn't bother me, though. I mastered the art of controlling myself and my sexual desires years ago. I'm not walking around this place with a pathetic and desperate hard on like every other man in here.

My eyes scan the room as I take a sip of my whiskey.

The girls are definitely pretty. Too many blondes and too many fake tits for my liking, but like I said, this is the best strip club in the city, so they're all easy on the eyes.

I scan the table and see two of the guys talking a mile a minute at me, thinking that I'm actually listening or give a shit. I look at the other one who is practically drooling while watching the girls on stage. I don't even try to hide the amused look on my face and the sarcastic scoff that comes from me. Fucking amateur.

"Are you following where I'm going with this, Mr. Grey?" The younger guy asks. My eyes scan back over to him. That was his polite way of asking if I'm even listening.

I decide that I'm having fun people watching at this place so I fake interest in order to keep them talking and buy me more time and entertainment.

"Yes, of course," I say, faking a friendly tone as best I can.

"Great," he says with a smile as he starts to babble again.

I down the rest of my glass and signal to the nearby waitress that I'd like another. The staff have been waiting on me hand and foot since I stepped in here; One of the _upsides_ of being a billion-dollar CEO.

I wait anxiously for my refill as I slightly tune into what this fucker is saying. He's boasting about their business and the money they've made. The cars and the yachts and all that other stupid bullshit. I raise an eye brow at him, genuinely surprised that he's not even trying to hide his massive ego – which most likely hides his tiny dick.

I chuckle to myself as the waitress comes back with my drink. I thank her and dismiss her as she lingers a bit too long. Desperation isn't my thing.

My ears perk up when I notice that the ego maniac has stopped talking and seems to be in awe of something. I immediately bring myself fully back to reality, as I'm genuinely interested in whatever has finally stopped this guy from talking about himself.

"Now _that_ one," he says as he uses his cigar to point, "that one I'd pay good money for."

He's talking about one of the girls. Typical. I'm instantly bored again and take another swig of my drink.

"What do you think of her, Grey?" One of the others asks.

I exhale dramatically, unable to hide my annoyance.

"Where?" My tone is flat and unamused.

"Right over there," he's still using his cigar to point. Didn't his mother ever tell him how rude that is? "The one just getting off the stage. God damnit I can't believe we missed her up there!"

I see her. There's no doubt in my mind that's who he is referring to. I stifle a groan and unconsciously loosen my tie as my eyes stay transfixed on her. I feel my pants get tighter as well. So much for that control I was talking about earlier.

My frustration grows stronger at the reaction I'm having to this girl. I've trained for fucking years to be able to control myself around women and to have them _be_ controlled by me. I grab my drink and down the rest.

"Ah, you like her, don't ya Grey?" One of them asks.

"Fuck off," I mutter.

My eyes are glued to her. I watch as she throws a small silk black robe around her half naked body as she walks off the stage. Her hair is a deep chestnut color that sways past her shoulders. She has bangs that sit lazily in her eyes and I watch as she adorably blows air upwards in order to get them out of the way. It's hard to make out the specific details of her facial features from over here, and its dark, but I can tell she's beautiful – stunning even. I notice immediately that every man's attention is on her.

She walks across the room with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. For a girl who was just dancing half naked on a stage she seems uncharacteristically shy.

My eyes scan down her body as she walks. She has long, lean legs and the heels that she's wearing are the highest I've ever seen. They don't seem to faze her, though, as she's walking in them as if she's floating.

Her head goes down as she passes by our table, but I am still able to make out the little details of her face. Her lips are what catches my attention – they are full, pink, and look soft and velvety. She has the cutest little button nose and full cheek bones that are making her look much younger than I'm hoping she is. Unfortunately, I was not able to get a good look at the color of her eyes.

I watch her back side as she walks further away from us. Damn she would look fucking amazing in my playroom.

"I wonder how much she costs for a dance," I hear one of them say.

"She's probably the most expensive," another responds.

I don't care to acknowledge what they are saying as I'm still absolutely spell bound by this beautiful and mysterious creature.

I watch as she walks straight over to the man that I know to be the owner of this place, but I'm sure she refers to as "boss".

They begin talking and whatever conversation that they are having becomes heated immediately. She is stomping her feet like a child while he wags his finger in her face authoritatively.

What the hell? What could they possibly be fighting about? There's no way that he is displeased with her as an employee; every guy in here is practically jacking off at the sight of her.

Suddenly she turns on her 6inch heel and stomps away from him while he continues to scold her retreating back. Her beautiful face is scrunched up in frustration and I can see the unmistakable glisten of tears in her eyes.

Without knowing it my body jumps up from my chair with the intention of running after her, but I notice that she is heading straight for what I presume to be the changing rooms for the dancers. I instantly notice how awkward I must look just standing here like this.

"Grey?" One asks with amusement in his voice. "You planning on asking how much she's worth?"

I sit back down and ignore his smug expression. Besides the fact that I have way more money than this fucker will ever even dream of having, I could also beat his ass so easily he would want to off himself just from sheer embarrassment.

But I don't say any of that. Instead, I place my elbows on the table in front of me and make strong and unfaltering eye contact with him. His smile immediately dissipates and he leans back in his chair a little. The others are dead silent.

"Your proposal is pathetic," I say coolly. "Good luck finding _anybody_ that will partner with you for that."

His mouth hangs open and mine turns up in a very subtle smile.

Quickly and awkwardly, the three of them get up. I do not. I have no intention of bidding these assholes farewell.

"Fucking punk," one of them whispers as he shrugs his jacket on. I chuckle and lean back in my chair, my amused eyes catching his timid ones.

"You must not be aware of what I'm capable of," I say with a smirk. "Look up my past records. The internet is a free resource. And just know that everything you find – I'm still very capable of."

I see the stunned looks on their faces when they realize what I'm talking about. It's absolutely no secret to the public that I've got a pretty dark past. I have been arrested countless times for assault from getting in drunken, and sober, fights. I can't even tell you how much time I did in jail from the ages of 15 to about 23 for fighting and beating the shit out of cocky douche bags like them. Luckily for me my dad is a lawyer, so I always did the minimum sentences, which for some charges were only a number of months. Now I simply take out my anger in weekly boxing lessons.

"Don't let the suit fool you," I say with finality, conviction, and a smirk as the three of them huff and walk away defeated.

More than happy to get rid of them, I bring my attention back to the door that I'm sure that gorgeous girl is going to come out of. I look down at my watch and see that it's just after midnight. There's no way she's done with work already as this is when the money really starts to get good.

After a painstaking couple of minutes, I see her walk out of the back room. She has on a pair of tight but torn up jeans, a loose-fitting band t-shirt, black combat books with the laces untied and trailing on the floor as she walks, and a small backpack that is slung over her shoulder. I can also see that she has taken some of her make up off. Her eyes also look very red and puffy. There's no doubt in my mind that she was crying back there. I notice that she looks _much_ younger than she did when she was out here working.

Seeing her like this, in her normal clothes, bare faced, and messy hair that she has put up in a ponytail, my insides clench. Suddenly the fact that she dances every night half naked for men makes my blood boil. I start to panic as I feel myself losing control again. She's making me feel out of control and I haven't even talked to her. Shit.

I watch as she wipes another fallen tear away from her face and turns to walk out of the front door.

My feet move before my brain does and before I know it I'm standing in front of her, blocking her exit.

She stops in her tracks and looks taken aback by my intrusion and sudden appearance. Her eyes scan my face and her mouth slightly parts. I can tell that she's trying to look away from me but can't for some reason. I watch in fascination as she takes a deep and shaky breath. Her eyes close monetarily before she lets the breath out and straightens her shoulders and holds her head up high. Whatever effect I'm having on her right now, she's trying to hide it…badly.

"Can I help you?" Her voices cracks with nervousness and she quickly clears her throat and looks down awkwardly before taking another deep breath and making strong eye contact with me again. My lips twitch but I choose to hide my smile and keep it inward.

"You seem distressed," I say in a deep and smooth tone. Her breathing quickens at the sound of my voice and she clears her throat again.

"And?"

God damnit she's cute. Absolutely fucking adorable. She's trying too hard to seem intimidating and like she doesn't care, but I can tell when I look into her eyes… _holy shit, her eyes._ I don't think I've ever seen such a pure color of blue before. My confidence falters slightly as I'm completely taken aback by those fucking eyes.

"Just making sure you're alright," I say with an easy shrug as I'm back to my effortless and nonchalant CEO persona. "I also wanted to see if you wanted to grab some coffee, or a bite to eat."

Her eye brows furrow in confusion and she looks down at herself momentarily before looking back up at me. Her perfect eyes peer at me innocently through her wispy bangs and my skin feels hot at the sight.

"I'm sorry, no." She says flatly.

"No?" I say, matching her emotionless tone. I've mastered the art of hiding my feelings, but I'm kind of dying inside right now. I honestly don't think a woman has never said no to me. And to make it worse it's the single most beautiful and alluring woman I've ever laid my eyes on.

My eyes are locked on hers, trying desperately to read her, as I see a large figure come and stand next to her out of my peripheral.

"Have a good evening, Mr. Grey," I hear the low and raspy voice of the owner of the club and I finally tear my eyes away from her to look at him. I watch as he grabs her by the arm, gives me a small smile, and leads her out of the club. I am stunned, absolutely stunned as I watch her get into his car which a valet had pulled up to the front.

My mouth hangs open. My eyes are narrowed in disgust.

No way. _No fucking way_ she's with that prick. He's easily twice her age! She is _so much_ fucking better than this!

I take a deep breath and gather myself together as best as I can, but I am tense as fuck with frustration, confusion, envy, and determination.

Before I call Taylor to bring the car around, I make a quick phone call to my current sub and tell her to meet me in the playroom.

I might not have what I truly want tonight, but this isn't over. Not even in the slightest.

 _A/N:_

 _Hopefully some of you are intrigued and are ready to take this journey with me._

 _Laters, baby_


	2. Chapter 2

_Welcome back :-)_

 _Just want to thank those who reviewed the first chapter, it means a lot_

CPOV

I tried to concentrate on Leila last night, but I couldn't. I couldn't get the images of the mystery girl out of my head; How beautiful and alluring and illusive she was; How I imagine her aura to be a deep and hypnotic burgundy color and her skin to feel like silk under my fingertips.

All I could think about was herin my playroom…and Leila definitely noticed. My dick would immediately go soft when I was snapped back into reality and realized it was Leila in the room and not _her_. Here she goes making me feel out of control again, and I don't even know her fucking name.

So here I am. Sitting in my SUV outside of the same fucking strip club where I met her last night. I look up to see Taylor's gaze is completely flat and unreadable, but I know that in his head he must be wondering what the hell is going on here. He knows I fucking hate strip clubs.

I pull out my phone and look at the time. It's just past 10 pm on a Thursday night, and I can see that the club is getting pretty packed. I have a good feeling that she'll be here tonight. I mean, there's no way that the prettiest girl in the club won't be working on one of the busiest nights of the week.

Working. _Fuck._ My blood boils again at the thought of strangers staring at her body. My hands ball into fists and I swear I almost break my fucking teeth from how hard I'm biting down thinking about how she went home with the sleazy owner last night.

I stuff my phone in my pocket and turn towards Taylor.

"Go ahead and pull into the parking lot after I go inside," I instruct. "I don't know how long I'll be."

"I'd feel more comfortable if I went in with you, sir," he responds.

"No," is the only word that escapes my mouth as I open the door and exit the SUV. I pull my suit jacket closer around me and button the front of it together. It's starting to get chilly in Seattle.

I enter the building and am immediately greeted by him. The sleazy, old, asshole of an owner who has the girl I so desperately want.

He holds his hand out for mine and I take it hesitantly. He shakes my hand firmly and the smile that reaches his face is genuine. I know that look. When people see me all they see is money signs above my head.

"Mr. Grey, so glad that you're back!" He says enthusiastically. "Did you see something you liked?" He wags his thick eye brows up and down and I can't help but scowl but he doesn't seem to notice.

"You could say that," I say as I look away from him and scan the crowd.

"Would you like a more secluded area of the club? Or to see a certain dancer?"

I put my hand up in an effort to get him to stop blabbing.

"I'll be fine. I'll let you know if I need anything."

"Yes sir, anything you want, just name it!" He shouts to my retreating back, causing everyone to stare and take notice of me. Fucking idiot. I want to ring his neck.

I walk slowly with my hands casually in my pockets as I scan the stages. I don't see her up there. I lean up against the very back wall of the room and sink into the shadows, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible as I search her out.

10, 20, 30 minutes pass and I still don't see her anywhere. I'm about to give up and just fucking ask that asshole where she is when there's a low hum of voices in the room and the energy changes. I can see every guy in here shifting in their seats and I know it's her.

Sure enough, she walks slowly to the stage, removing her black robe in the process, revealing a matching dark purple bra and panty set…or at least I _guess_ that's what you could call it. The bottoms are basically a thong and her tits are spilling over the top of the cups of her bra and I can see the slightest hint of the color of her nipples peeking out.

For a moment, I forget where I am. I am completely paralyzed at the sight of her. With the light shining right on her I can see every tiny detail of her. Her skin is smooth and pure porcelain. She has tiny freckles in random spots all over her body. She is lean but is soft in all of the right places. Her ass is fucking amazing and looks so soft and full. Her beautiful breasts that are being squeezed by that bra are begging for me to let them out. I could only imagine how smooth her skin would feel underneath my tongue.

But it's her face that's really driving me insane. There are those lips – those eyes…they look so sad and empty and they're accompanied by a slight but fake smile as she moves across the stage.

I am absolutely flabbergasted by her stage presence. This person is nothing like the shy and timid girl who seemed so tiny and vulnerable as she barely reached the height of my chin when she was looking up at me last night. She's putting on _quite_ a show and I silently thank myself for thinking ahead and tucking my dick into the waist band of my boxer briefs in case of emergency…which is currently happening.

A few whistles from the crowd are what shakes me from my coma and I realize where I am and what I came here for. I watch in horror as she gets onto her knees and leans over slightly so some fucking douche bag can slip some cash into her tiny bra.

That's it. I've had enough of this bullshit.

I walk straight up to the stage that she's on and push past another guy who has gotten up to hand her money.

"Hey man, I got here first," I hear his nasally voice whine.

"Shut up," I say and stand authoritatively waiting for her to notice me.

She does, and her fluid and graceful movements falter for a moment. I can tell she doesn't really know what to do and that she is shocked that I'm here again.

I make a gentle motion with my head telling her to come to me. She does, slowly and hesitantly, mind you, but she still comes.

She gets down on her hands and knees, pushing her breasts together and letting her radiant hair fall and frame her face. She's playing a part, but I can feel her energy. She's nervous again, just like I made her nervous last night.

"Can I help you?" She asks in a whisper. This is the same thing she asked me last night. Last night she tried to fake confidence and her voice cracked with nervousness. Tonight, her voice is small, hushed, and unsure.

"I want to talk to you," I say quickly and hold my hand out from her to take and come off of the stage.

"I'm working," she says through her teeth. Her eyes dart around hoping that nobody is listening to the exchange.

"Fine then," I say with an annoyed sigh, "I want a lap dance."

She gives a sarcastic chuckle and rolls her eyes. My body tenses.

"I don't give lap dances," she says with disdain in her voice, looking at me through narrowed eyes. "And I don't do any one on one time with customers. So either give me some cash, or leave me alone."

She notices that I make no move to hand her money so she smoothly and professionally moves away from me as if nothing happened.

I stand there dumbfounded. I breathe deeply in order to control myself and my emotions.

She must have no idea of who I am and what I'm capable of getting.

With long and determined strides I find myself face to face with the scum bag owner. We are the same height so my eyes glare directly into his. He's caught off guard by my demeanor, I can tell.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Grey?"

"I want a private lap dance from the dancer on stage 2."

His eyes immediately fill with disappointment. "I'm sorry Mr. Grey, Cherry doesn't do private dances."

"Cherry? That's her fucking stage name?" I ask him with venom in my voice. He really couldn't come up with anything original for her?

"She's been very adamant about what she will and won't do," he starts to explain. "I've tried to reason with her, as she's my most popular dancer, but she won't budge. And I really don't want to lose the income she brings so I don't push her on it."

I begin to get impatient and more frustrated by the second and reach into my pocket, pulling out my wallet, and opening it up to show him the stack of hundreds I have. His eyes go wide.

"How much?" I ask. "I have my Amex card on me as well."

"Mr. Grey…"

"How fucking much?!"

"Alright alright," he says putting his hands up in defeat, "Let me go talk to her."

I put my wallet away momentarily as I watch him walk away and pull her from the stage, taking her to the back room. What a pathetic fucker. Letting someone have a private dance with his girl for a price. It's disgusting and unrespectable. If this girl was mine I'd make sure no one ever touched her again.

I take a deep breath and take a seat in one of the plush chairs at the front. I need to get myself together. I don't even know this girl and I'm putting up this much of a fuss? Never in my life would I ever waste so much time, effort, and energy on a girl I wanted to fuck. I have no idea what's wrong with me.

As I'm lost in my head I hear the back-door slam and the quick trot of heels on the tile floor followed by that low life's voice. "You stop this instant! I'm not doing this with you every time!"

"No!"

It's her, I look up and see her in a large black trench coat with her backpack over her shoulder. She's walking quickly and her face is stone cold.

I quickly reach up and grab her wrist.

"Hey, wait – "

"I said _NO!"_ She screams. She goes to push against my chest with her hands but my swift reflexes that are always on high alert grab both of her hands in mine before she can touch me.

She freezes for a second as I grip her hands tightly in mine before coming back to reality and yanking herself away from me.

"I just want to talk to you," I say gently with my hands up in an attempt to show surrender, as if trying to approach a small, scared animal.

"God damnit, everyone just leave me alone! Including _you_ ," she said as she shoots daggers at me with her eyes.

Without another word, she turns quickly towards the front door and exists, slamming it behind her.

I slump into the chair behind me and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. Fuck.

"I'm sorry Mr. Grey…I tried to talk to her but she – "

"It's fine," I snap. "When a woman says no she means no. You can tell her I won't be bothering her anymore."

Maybe this is a good thing. I would just end up hurting her anyway, like I do with every other submissive I've ever had. Whoever this girl is, I guess I'll care enough for her to stay away.

 _A/N:_

 _Reviews keep me going_

 _Laters, baby_


	3. Chapter 3

_Welcome back :-) and thanks for all reviews!_

1 week later

APOV

It's fucking freezing outside. It's the middle of October in Seattle and I have no place to call home. Who am I kidding? I haven't had a home for nearly 2 years, and even when I did have a 'home' it was an absolute hellhole.

I grip my large jacket and bring it tighter to my body as a shiver violently rattles my bones. I look up and notice that it has started to sprinkle. Great.

It's not that I have nowhere to stay, I just don't _want_ to stay there. Doug and I got into another fight about work. He keeps bringing up the subject of me giving private lap dances to clients, which I adamantly protest. I told him straight up when he hired me that I would never get completely nude and I would never do lap dances or be alone with a client in anyway. At first, he consented and stated that it wouldn't be a problem since it's not "that type" of club, but he has since changed his tune. Some of the other girls have started doing it and the pressure on me to do it is increasing more and more.

I do understand his reasoning and urgency. He is the owner of the club after all, and his first priority will always be money and business. He says that I'm the most popular dancer and that I bring in the most cash. I don't know if that's true. I mean, I just can't understand what anyone would ever find appealing about me. I think sometimes I can pull off cute, but _sexy_? Hell no.

Doug tells me otherwise. Says I'm the 'sexiest little kitten' he's ever hired. Gross.

I guess I do owe him a lot, though. He hired me with no experience and has been allowing me to stay with him at his place for a few months. So far, he hasn't tried to touch me in anyway, but he has his creepy moments. There have been a few times that I've caught him watching me change or little sexual innuendos that he makes. It makes me uncomfortable, but I guess it's just the price I have to pay right now. He has a really nice place and the cost of living in Seattle isn't exactly cheap. So, if I have to cohabitate with a creepy old man for a bit while I save up money to get myself a decent place in safer part of town, so be it.

I sigh and pull the hood of my jacket over my head to protect my hair from getting wet. I look up and watch as the rain falls against the street light right above me. It's falling at a sideways angle and actually looks really beautiful. I have to find the beauty in the small mundane things in order to make it one day at a time in this messed up world.

I rest my head against my knees and listen to the sound of the rain and the cars going by every few seconds. It feels good to get away for a while. Away from the world of being a stripper with no real home. Away from the world of feeling watched and monitored under my boss' roof.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I barely hear the sound of footsteps that approach me. I do get alarmed, though, when I noticed that the sound of the steps has stopped right beside me.

My heart races. Fuck, not again. I don't have the energy to fight someone off of me right now. I close my eyes and try my best to dissociate, praying that nothing bad happens to me or that the person is just an illusion in my head. _It's not real. You're safe. It's just your imagination._

"Hey."

My body jolts and a small yelp escapes my lips. My hands immediately fly up to cover my mouth to muffle the sound but it's too late. Whoever this man is officially knows I'm scared. He knows that I'm weak, that I'm an easy target, that I –

"Please look at me. You're safe."

The voice sounds familiar but I can't place it. Slowly, and mustering up all of the courage I can, I turn my head and look up at the stranger.

A very strange flood of emotions goes through me as I recognize him. Relief, confusion, annoyance, comfort. It's _him_. The handsome as hell business man from the club that won't leave me alone.

"Hey," I manage to squeak out.

"Mind if I join you?" He asks in a gentle tone.

"It's raining," I say, confused as to why he would want to sit in the cold rain with a girl he doesn't know.

"Yeah," he says in a 'no shit' tone as he looks around him. "So can I join you?"

"Um…ok…."

His smile is gentle and warm as he sits beside me. He pulls the hood from his jacket over his head as well.

"I thought it was you," he says, eyeing me so intensely that I have to look away.

"What do you mean?"

"I just drove by you, heading south. I thought it was you so I pulled over."

"Oh," I look down and play with my fingers, still not able to look at him.

"Are you alright?" His voice is laced with genuine concern and it tugs at my heart strings. When was the last time someone was actually concerned about me?

"Yeah, I just needed to go for a walk."

"Do you live on this side of the city?" He asks.

"Um, no. Not really. I mean, yes. Kind of."

I can feel his eyes on me. I can feel his energy. He wants to ask so many questions but doesn't. How do I exactly explain to a stranger that I'm technically homeless and staying with my boss who constantly tries to coerce me to do things that I don't want to do for money?

There's a thick silence between us for a few seconds. It's filled with so much tension, questions, concern, avoidance…all of it.

"What's your name?"

"Um…" I hesitate and finally look up at him again. I notice that his eyes are a unique shade of grey that I've never seen before. His face is masculine and insanely symmetrical and captivating. He might possibly have the most handsome face I've ever seen. And his eyes are staring at me so intensely with a look that I cannot quite place.

"Your name?" He asks again, noticing that my mind went blank while staring at him. Shit.

"I um…I'm not really supposed to tell you my real name."

I see him let out an exasperated sigh and watch nervously as he appears to be a little irritated. I watch as his jaw clenches and he licks his lips slowly before looking back into my eyes.

"You're not at work right now, are you?"

"No…" my voice comes out in a hushed whisper.

"I want to know your name." His voice is low, commanding, yet smooth. My lips tremble as I open my mouth to answer him.

"Anastasia."

I watch his eyes light up momentarily before growing dark.

"You have a beautiful name, Anastasia. It suits you."

"Thanks…you can just call me Ana, though. Everyone does."

"Alright," he says with a smile. There's a silence between us again.

"Are you gonna tell me your name?" I ask with a bit of inflection in my voice, trying my best to attempt some light-hearted humor. He smiles again at my question. He has a nice smile. I have a feeling he doesn't reveal it very often.

"Christian Grey."

He holds his hand out for me to shake. It's a very simple yet kind and somewhat funny gesture as we've already had quite a few not so pleasant encounters. I can't help the smile that creeps across my face and I reach out to take his hand. His large hand clasps around mine and he puts the perfect amount of pressure on it. His hand is warm and rough and he holds onto it, not letting me go. My eyes are completely glued to our intertwined hands. I don't know why, but it's like a force that –

"Holy shit!" I exclaim, abruptly pulling my hand from his grasp. He looks at me, confused.

"Like, _Christian Grey_ Christian Grey?"

His face falls a little bit. I'm sure he's used to people freaking out when they meet him. I probably should have played it a little more casual. Someone of his caliber would probably like to have a normal conversation every once in a while.

"Yyyyup," he responds as he looks at the street in front of us, avoiding eye contact with me.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude," I say sincerely. "It's just weird because I hear so much about you."

"It's alright," he says, turning back to look at me again. "You hungry?"

"Um…"

"You see that little café right there?" He asks, pointing at the dimly lit window down the block.

"Yeah."

"It's really good. What do you say we walk over there and grab a bite?"

"Oh, no, that's ok I really don't-"

"When was the last time you ate?" He asks, suddenly standing up. I look up at him. Having him looming over me like this, his handsome face looking down at me and his powerful stance is intoxicating. I seem to have lost my breath as well.

"Like, this morning," I say in a whisper, trying to find my voice. I watch as his eyes shut tightly and he takes a deep breath. He holds his hand out to me and I stare at it, not knowing what to do.

"You need to eat, Anastasia. Come on."

I reach my shaky hand out to his and grab it. The warmth of it takes me by surprise as if I wasn't just in a grip with his hand only seconds before. He pulls me up and steadies me on my feet before we begin walking down the street together.

"I told you to call me Ana," I say quietly. If he hears me he doesn't answer me, and we walk towards the café together.

I hold the warm cup of steaming tea in my hands and take a sip, allowing the warm liquid to run its length down my body. I close my eyes and can't resist the little moan of delight that escapes my lips in appreciation of one of my favorite things. My eyes fly open when I swear I hear a low groan come from Christian, who is sitting across from me. When I open my eyes, he is indeed looking at me. We hold each other's gaze for a few moments, neither one of us knowing what to say. The tension between us isn't necessarily bad…it's actually quite electrifying and intense.

Our eye contact is broken by the waitress bringing over a pretty sizeable plate of food. I had insisted to Christian that I was not hungry enough for a full meal, so we settled on splitting an appetizer plate full of vegetables, hummus, and pita bread.

Suddenly realizing how hungry I am upon seeing the food and smelling the scent of the warm bread, I immediately grab a slice and dip it in the hummus. It's absolutely delicious and I chew it slowly in order to savor it in gratitude.

"Good?" Christian asks as he pops a hummus covered carrot slice into his mouth.

"Mmhm," I say shyly and he smiles.

"I want you to tell me about yourself," he says casually as he takes a sip of his beer. I am flustered by this question and don't know how to respond. Where would I even fucking start?

He must be able to tell that the wheels are spinning rapidly in my head on what to say, so he gives me a head start.

"How old are you?" He asks tensely.

"How old do you think I am?" I ask coyly. He looks cute when he's on edge.

"Young," he says simply. "Too young to be working in a strip club." My smile fades instantly. "So?" he presses me.

"I'm 20."

I can't help but giggle at the audible sigh of relief he lets out.

"I'm gonna be blunt with you, Ana," he says, as we continue to eat, "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever fucking seen."

My eyes immediately go wide and I look away awkwardly. How in the hell could a man like him ever think that about me?

"So, what I want to know is, why the fuck are you working at a strip club?" He leans back in his chair and takes another sip of his beer. He's tense again.

"At least it's not a nude club."

"Doesn't fucking matter."

"Oh…"

"Why, Anastasia?"

I gulp and look down at my tea, suddenly wishing it were a glass of wine.

"It's just what I have to do at the moment to get money."

"And a girl as smart and pretty as you can't get a regular, decent job?"

"I needed quick money, ok?" I say, starting to get defensive. "You don't know where I come from or what I've been through. My childhood dream wasn't to be doing this, you're right. But sometimes life fucking sucks and this is just what my life looks like right now." I cross my arms and hang my head low. There's silence for a few seconds before he speaks again.

"Well why don't you tell me where you come from and what you've been through that lead you to this point."

"Why does it matter?" I ask sarcastically.

"Because I fucking care, now tell me." I'm caught off guard by the tone of his voice. It's harsh and serious.

"I didn't have a very nurturing mother," I begin in a soft voice after gathering my thoughts for a few seconds. My eyes are fixated on my tea that I am rotating around and around in my hands. "She always chose men over me. She married four times. Her last husband was particularly awful."

"What do you mean?"

"He was an asshole," I say bluntly. "He would say terrible things to me all the time. You know, that I was stupid and ugly and blah blah blah," I say with a dismissive wave of my hand, trying my best to minimize the effect that Steven Morton actually had on me.

"Did he ever hit you?" He asks, his voice raspy with an emotion I can't place.

"Yeah," I say in a whisper. I still can't look at him. "Anyway, my childhood with my mother and all of her husbands was hell. My adolescents with my mother and all of her husbands was hell. So, I graduated from high school, turned 18 a few days later, and I got the fuck out of there."

"Where did you go?"

"Friend's houses. Renting rooms out from strangers. You know, just your typical couch surfer," I say with a sarcastic laugh. "Taking random jobs here and there. Some nights I had nowhere to sleep but a park bench," I say as my voice cracks, the memories bring a chill up my spine. "But I've survived thus far, so I'm sure I'll be alright."

I finally get the courage to look up at him. His eyes are squinted and staring straight into mine. His right hand is gripping his beer bottle so hard I think he might break it, his other hand is gripping the side of the table and I can see his knuckles turning white.

"I'm ok though," I try to emphasize to calm him down a bit, although I don't know why he is so upset. "I'm a survivor, it's what I do."

"So you've essentially been homeless for 2 years," he says flatly.

"Yes."

"And you've been stripping for…?"

"About 3 months now."

He nods his head in contemplation and takes a swig from his beer.

"And what about the owner of the club?"

"What about him?" I ask, starting to get nervous at the question.

"I saw you leave with him the first night I met you. Are you guys together?" His eyes are downcast and he's back to squeezing his bottle that might burst at any moment.

"Doug?!" I shriek. "No!"

"Then why did you leave with him?"

"He was just giving me a ride home," I say avoiding eye contact. I don't tell him that I'm actually living in his place. Something tells me he wouldn't react well to that. Although I don't know why.

"So he's not fucking you?"

My mouth hangs open in shock and disgust at the notion.

"Christian, no! What the fuck do you take me for?!"

"I just had to ask, ok?" He says calmly.

"Why does it matter to you?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Because it does," he says aggressively, taking me by surprise. "It just does," his voice is softer, I think after realizing how harsh he was just now.

As we finish off our food he proceeds to tell me a little bit about himself. About his family and his rough teenage and young adult years which were apparently full of alcohol and violence. He tells me that a friend helped him turn his life around. He tells me stories about his time at Harvard and how he started his business. It's incredible and inspiring to me what he has accomplished and overcome in just 27 years. Although we talked a lot about him and his life, he seemed very closed off about certain things. I can tell he has a lot of walls up and left out very important parts of his story. If anyone could understand about having walls up though, it's me.

After we eat, he says that he is going to walk me home…or to the place that I'm staying, anyway. I told him that I'm staying with one of my female coworkers and he begrudgingly accepted the answer. It feels terrible to lie to him, but for some reason I genuinely feel like it's necessary right now.

We eventually make it to the building and I stand outside of the steps, shoving my hands awkwardly in my pocket. I look up at him and see the apprehension in his eyes. It makes me even more tense.

"Well, thank you for the food. And for spending some time with me. It was nice," I say quietly, giving him a shy yet genuine smile.

"You're welcome," he says with a slight nod of his head. There's a short silence again until he speaks up.

"Stay with me," he says so quietly I almost don't hear him.

"What do you mean?"

"At my place. It's safer. And it will make me feel better to know where you are."

I open my mouth in surprise, completely shocked that he would offer such a thing and I don't know how to respond.

"Please."

His eyes have turned from stern, to soft and vulnerable. It's such a startling difference from the powerful and domineering man that he portrays himself to be.

"Christian, I can't," I say solemnly.

"Of course you can."

"No, I can't," I say more forcefully. I'm not used to having people show genuine care for me and its extremely uncomfortable. I've never been able to accept any kind of love, not that it's really ever been given to me before.

He lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his hands down his face before placing them back into the pockets of his jacket.

"Again, thank you for tonight. But I have to go to sleep." I turn to walk away but feel his hand on my arm, pulling me back towards him.

"God damnit Anastasia, I've never cared about someone's where abouts and wellbeing this much before, ok? Would you just let me help you?"

"I don't need your help," I say pointedly, taking my arm from his grasp. It hurts to be so cold with him right now but I can't let this happen. I can't let him care about me. I'm not worth it and would likely just disappoint him once he really gets to know me.

"Can I at least get your phone number? So we can talk?"

"I don't have a phone," I say flatly.

"I don't believe you."

"I'm going inside."

"Okay! Alright, fine. Here," he says as he reaches into his pocket and pulls a card out from his wallet. "Here's my number, please take it," he says as he holds it out for me. "It has my personal cell on it. I don't give that to anyone. If you really do want me to leave you alone I'll accept that. But please just take this, and if you _ever_ need anything, promise you'll call me. Ok?"

I take the card from him and my eyes start to water from the emotion and sadness evident in his eyes. I can tell that he's really struggling with the emotions that he's feeling right now. It seems like it's so foreign and uncomfortable for him.

"Ok," I say in a whisper, playing with the card in my hands. "Thank you, Christian."

In a spur of the moment decision, I turn back towards him and stand on my toes in order to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. And without hesitation or turning back, I run up the steps and let myself in the building, shutting the door quickly behind me and blocking out all of the emotions that I am currently feeling for Christian Grey.

 _A/N:_

 _A huge thank you to those of you who are reviewing this story. Please leave one if you read._

 _Laters, baby_


End file.
